


Tryst

by DankTempsey



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6101917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DankTempsey/pseuds/DankTempsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dempsey shrugged, "I... wanna stay with you for as long as I can. As long as it looks nonchalant to the others."<br/>"What's so nonchalant about sleeping with another man?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tryst

**Author's Note:**

> Before jumping into the story, I'd like to thank you all for the past comments and kudos, reading/seeing them all of them had made me smile and surely made me proud of my work. I'll be gladly applying recent advice from said comments as well. Thank you so much fallingvalkyries, Sexy Potato, Eddie, and Agarthan Executioner for the comments and guests and users for the kudos!  
> -

Tryst

 

Gelid atmosphere had cracked open around their settlement. Icicles formed so quickly on rigid contours of the castle and seeped through cracks to insulate cold air. It was a storm outside; snow, hail, fog and must captured the indoors. Only certain areas had provided a fighting chance of true solace. The two pretended like it was nothing though―the situation they were enduring as of now was keen attachment and a quiet, romantic affair.

 

He curled his fingers with greedy intention. Lust captivated and controlled his lips. He wanted to submerge this freckled back with so many kisses and spine-tingling "I love you" phrases. Edward ghosts his fingers against the edge of Tank's hips, dragging them up to his back effortlessly and so smoothly. He clutched on to the thick shoulders and glided his lips atop the marine's skin, flushed with concupiscence―more or less desire rather than a driven libido.

 

Edward had chuckled, with that came a gust of hot air to cruise over the American's back. Tank shivered, arching and allowing his breath to pick up the pace. 

 

The company was warm. No, actually, it was truly appealing. Edward's humming had been playing small vibrations against Tank's bareness; messy black hairs tickled against it too, and Edward vowed to never let go tonight. He couldn't. He wouldn't. 

 

Dempsey didn't mind that either. The warmth was something to totally write down in his fun book (most likely), but he was more focused on the stirring kisses that kept him happy and decisively restless.

 

It felt like he had swounded into the matress. Everything was so unreal and convinced him it'd be pulled away at any second. Richtofen's kisses were consistent and doting. And so Tank snickered.

 

Richtofen had stopped kissing the American, crawling back up the satin sheets and securing his arms around the plump stomach. He nosed his way into Dempsey's neck, kissing relentlessly and now zealously. Tank heaved a heartfelt laughter. He blushed too.

 

"How could I be distracted so perfectly, to where I can't feel the cold anymore," whispered Tank.

 

The German shrugged, shaking his head, "I thought I was doing poorly. I haven't really been kissing a lot of backs lately."

 

Tank nodded, holding onto Richtofen's hands whilst leaning backward.

 

"You haven't been kissing me lately at all."

"Give me time to warm up." 

 

Richtofen pulled his marine closely. Unkempt brown hairs tickled at his chin, he felt a hot, thick mass crowd near his stomach and pelvis, and breathing had become a common in-and-out pace of held breaths. Edward pressed his hips flush with Tank's rear; an inaudible, covert moan doddering against the marine's lips.

 

"I should let you know, Dempsey, I didn't want to make you come here. In fact, I'd be willing to escort you back to your own quarters if you'd like."

 

Tank nodded. It wasn't entirely his choice to come here in the first place. Richtofen had meekly informed Dempsey that he wanted to sleep together tonight. No, it was more of an offer truly:

 

"Dempsey, I would like to invite you to my quarters at dusk. The storm seems to be heading straight for us and I'd like to spend time with you, before we're bombarded into our divided rooms."

 

Dempsey had mumbled some poor excuse on how he'd have to think about it, but soon realized his decision would have to come earlier than expected. The blizzard was closing in so quickly. Edward was caught in the midst of dressing, some ill-starred conversation roused the air and convinced Richtofen to feel yellow.

 

Tank made himself at home and relaxed before being brought steamy tea and hot towels. After he jested about the "spa treatment" Edward found himself next to Dempsey, kissing Dempsey, and then laying down with him. Tank wondered what would've happened if they were separated in this weather, how long would they have bared it before one would fight the storm in order to meet up.

 

He was glad they were joined together now. Richtofen's hands did wonders blankets could only attempt.

 

Dempsey shrugged, "I... wanna stay with you for as long as I can. As long as it looks nonchalant to the others."

"What's so nonchalant about sleeping with another man?"

"It's not like we're telling them any of this, it's not a secret either. I mean, I know you still consider me as a friend anyway."

 

Tank laughed softly, and yet he was hurt. Richtofen knew so too.

 

He wasn't going to blame himself for being a hopeless romantic. His ideas on romance were different than this. It'd be consisting of great help, support, and toil melting between Edward's fingers; he'd rather be working right now, but with Dempsey at his side. The American had known the ins and outs of Richtofen's humor now, and made great company. Also, Richtofen didn't mind getting distracted by the little things Dempsey would (obliviously) do―bend down, show a sliver of skin when he'd stretch, read while twirling his hairs between his fingertips. That was Edward's favorite, too. Everytime he'd see Tank insensibly doing so, the German would only subconsciously note on how it's his job to play with those thin locks of umber. 

 

He felt Tank's discomfort rise to his freckled skin. He tried to gain space from the (surprisingly) buff arms, but had no avail. Edward didn't want to let go, especially when Tank was so comfortable on the right spot.

 

Richtofen kissed Dempsey's cheek, pulling the American into his warm arms; now, Edward and Tank's eyes locked on each other, spilling truths they could never forge in words or writing. Edward pressed a palm against the wet, red face. Dalliance and ambition cloaked Tank's eyes. 

 

"I'm still trying to figure out this fondness, American. It's foreign to me, I've never felt like this for someone."

"You've never liked someone?"

" _Yes_. I've just barely had someone like me back."

 

It looked like Dempsey had frowned for a second, but covered it up with a soft hum and nodded. Unfortunately, Dempsey would expect the German to face some rejection. He was a very unique man, very strange. His coping mechanisms of dealing with inner turmoil wasn't the best, his face seemed so unsure and insecure most of the time, and he wore an awkward fashion of layered clothing. Dempsey was glad to see Edward naked from the waist up now; those vials of jingle-bell blood started to bother him.

 

Tank sat upward, he daubed his dry lips with his tongue. A bleak draft sheathed his body. Without Richtofen, or the blanket, he was exposed to the wintry air. A breeze washed over him like a cold wave from the Arctic Ocean. Tank's ears had reacted, subsequently staining them a harsh pink. 

 

The raw temperature had risen, hands jumped over the naked-freckle shoulders and acted as a tight bandolier. 

 

"Please, don't leave me."

 

Tank produced a sound similar to sarcastic laughter. He wondered if Edward was joking at first, but with the longing silence and absent-verbal yearning, the devil dog told that Richtofen was serious. He turned to his partner, reciprocating the hold as best he could. Tank moved his lips to the edge of Richtofen's cheekbone, skimming his mouth gently over the bruised skin before replying. Actually, he didn't even respond. Tank just kept his lips hovered over the other man's ear. He wanted something to come to mind, anything, even if it'd be a sardonic-semi-affable gag. 

 

_ Nothing. _

 

He persisted in letting the silence talk for a while, before laying back down and facing Edward.

 

Tank brushed the German's lone hairs back into place. A smile expanded past his cheeks, whilst he grabbed hold onto Richtofen's. 

 

"I'm not going anywhere,"

 

 

×


End file.
